


X-Ball

by Icarusflies



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Baseball, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-16 01:19:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11818185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icarusflies/pseuds/Icarusflies
Summary: Mulder's done it now! It's the Believers against the Monsters in a life-or-death struggle in nine innings!





	1. The First Inning

“How many sunflower seeds do you think I can eat before the end of the game?” Mulder asked, brandishing an unopened bag. “I’m thinking all of these.”  
Scully sighed. “As a medical doctor, I would have to advise against that.”  
“What was that?” Mulder said through a mouthful of seeds.  
“Never mind.”

Skinner walked over from the other side of the dugout and put a hand on each agent’s shoulder. “It’s time to announce the starting line-up, get on the field. We can’t show any kind of weakness today or they’ll absolutely eat us alive.”  
“Sir, why are we doing this? It’s highly risky and gets us no closer to solving any cases,” Scully said.  
“Ask Agent Mulder. I told him the same thing, but he said it was an important ‘X-file’ and if we didn’t play we’d all die. He can’t seem to provide any details or evidence, and yet here we are,” said Skinner.  
A bar of music blasted across the field. “Time to go Agents. We’re fielding first.”

“This is Clyde Bruckman live from Camden Yards. I’ll be your announcer on this not-particularly-lovely afternoon - It’s too hot, hot dogs are too expensive, and someone is going to fall off the bleachers and die trying to catch a foul ball later. Today’s game is between the FBI Believers, and the Monster…hang on, I’m trying to read this…it looks like they wrote about fifteen different names here because they couldn’t decide on one. So today’s game is between the FBI Believers and the Monsters.  
The Believers are taking their positions now!”  
As each player was announced a picture of them was displayed on the big screen.  
“The pitcher, #20, Fox Mulder! He’s responsible for this whole mess.   
On first base, #42, Dana Scully! She’s the most decent person I know, and a good doctor. That isn’t so great for my life insurance sales however.  
On second base, #13, Alex Krycek! He’s notorious for his switch-hitting, so the pitcher had better watch out!   
On third base, #18, Jeffrey Spender! He has a reputation for arguing with the umpire. With that kind of attitude he won’t spend much time in the spotlight.  
The shortstop, #38, Sean Pendrell! He’s really been aiming high and shooting up through the ranks of the FBI!  
The catcher, #75, Walter Skinner! He’s the heart of this team, utterly infallible.  
In left field, #63, John Fitzgerald Byers! He’s got a shot at the big time, unlike his namesake.  
In center field, #10, Melvin Frohike! He paid me to say that he has the best kung fu.  
And in right field, #25, Richard Langley! He also paid me to say that he has the best kung fu.”

The team took their places. Mulder casually tossed a baseball up in the air, Skinner pulled down his mask. The Lone Gunmen argued about airspeed of a hit ball and where it would be best to stand to catch one. 

The rival team was announced.  
“The Monsters are about to go to bat! This team hits hard and absolutely kill on the field.” Once again pictures were flashed up, though the players stayed in the dugout.   
“The pitcher, #40, refuses to give a name. It’s rumored that he knew Josh Exley back in the day.  
On first base, #55, Virgil Incanto! He tends to chew the fat on field.  
On second base, #12, Cecil L’ively! He’s a hothead who throws fire.  
On third base, #124, Wayne Weinsider! A real demon who’s been known to make opposing players cry like babies.  
The shortstop, #37, Donnie Pfaster! He takes great pleasure in stopping line drives dead.  
The catcher, #66, Robert Modell! He’s able to take command of even the worst situations.  
In left field, #85, Leonard Betts! He has a tendency to get ahead of himself while fielding, but he always comes back strong afterwards.  
In center field, #3, Eugene Tooms! He’s the star player, having escalated quickly through the ranks. It’s a stretch to think many balls will get by him tonight.  
And finally in right field, #26, something that absolutely should not exist, a real fluke of nature. But this Flukeman is no parasite, it can hold its ground on the field.  
Once again I’m Clyde Bruckman, and it’s time to play ball!”

“Mulder, what have you gotten us into?” asked Scully. Mulder spit some sunflower seeds and attempted to grin.  
Flukeman came up to the plate, its head squeezed grotesquely into a batting helmet. It made a gurgling noise and hit its bat against the plate a few times.   
“Piece of cake. That rubbery thing couldn’t hit a wiffle ball,” Mulder said, winding up.   
Flukeman slammed the ball towards Pendrell, who fumbled it – he was understandably distracted by the sight of the Flukeman lunging towards first base, its steps almost graceful in a jiggling parasitic kind of way.   
“No worries, it was just a fluke! We’ve got this!” Mulder yelled as Eugene Tooms took the plate.  
He stood perfectly still as Mulder threw two strikes. (The umpire sounded familiar, but Mulder couldn’t quite place his finger on who he was). Then, as Mulder internally started to celebrate a strikeout, Tooms swung. He brought his bat back impossibly far, and snapped it forward like a stretched rubber band. The ball went into far left field. Byers scrambled to pick it up, panicking as Flukeman rounded second and shambled to third. He got the ball to Krycek moments after Tooms took second. He smirked at Krycek, who gave Tooms a look that could turn milk sour.  
“Play’s at first everyone!” said Mulder, spinning the ball on his finger. Virgil Incanto came to bat. “Come on everyone, we do NOT want Incanto taking second or third base, this is our first date!” He threw the pitch – Incanto swung and missed. On the second pitch he hit a high pop fly to Pendrell, who managed to catch it. “One down!”  
Cecil L’ively walked to the plate smoking a cigarette and twirling the bat in his hands. He wore no helmet. The umpire said something to him and L’ively handed him a cigarette. Then he grinned at Mulder and got into his stance. He ignored the first pitch, instead choosing to take a drag on his cigarette. But the second…as Mulder threw, L’ively’s bat burst into flame. It hit the ball with the sound of a sparking log, and the ball (now also on fire) zoomed over the back wall and disappeared into the stands. L’ively grinned, lit another cigarette, and casually made his way around the bases. Flukeman and Tooms moved at a slightly faster trot.  
“Mulder are there any stakes in this game?” Scully yelled from first base.  
“One or two,” Mulder replied. “Though we’d need more than that if vampires showed up”  
“Not that kind of stake Mulder.”

Wayne Weinsider was a typical dad at the plate. He had perfect stance, just a hint of smugness. “You at third base! Don’t just stand there! You need to bend your knees, get ready to move!” Weinsider said to Jeffrey Spender, with maybe MORE than the aforementioned hint of smugness.   
When Jeffrey was able to scoop up Weinsider’s line drive, whipping it over to Scully (who fumbled it, but managed to hold on for the out) Weinsider looked pleased as punch.   
“He did that on purpose,” Jeffrey mumbled.  
“That’s two outs people! One more!” Mulder said, smacking his hand into his glove. 

Donnie Pfaster held the bat limply, his eyes fixed on Scully. He swung slowly, missing the first two pitches entirely. He bunted on the third, but Skinner charged the ball and got it to first. “Three outs!”

Bottom of the First: Monsters 3, Believers, 0

The Believers returned to the dugout in preparation to bat. The players were shaken, unused to facing the contents of the X-files head on. Mulder watched the other team fixedly while Scully tied her shoe. “Scully! There’s an alien in the other dugout! Look!”   
Scully finished tying the last knot and glanced up. “I don’t see anything.”   
“You missed it.” Mulder said, sulking slightly. There was a moment of silence.  
“Do you know how batting orders work?” Mulder asked.  
“I can’t say I ever thought about it,” said Scully.  
“Well it’s really quite interesting – the first two hitters are supposed to be ones who have a high on-base percentage. The third hitter is almost a filler, ideally someone who can get on a base but rarely a good hitter. Now it’s the FORTH base hitter who’s the star. They’re the power hitters, the ones who hit home runs on a regular basis. The fifth batter is for clean-up, a strong hitter but not quite as good as the forth. After that the batters are just in descending order of skill, with the pitcher traditionally in the eighth place – so in our case one of the best hitters on the team.”  
“Mulder, I’m hitting ninth.”  
“Yes, well…” Mulder fidgeted uncomfortably.  
“Pendrell’s up to bat!” Skinner yelled.

Pendrell was shaking, whether with fear or excitement it was impossible to tell. He occasionally glanced back at the dugout, trying to make eye contact with Scully (who was distracted by Mulder’s continued long-winded explanation of baseball as a game).  
The Bounty Hunter pitched the ball with the kind of speed and power not uncommon in small jet engines. Robert Modell yelped as it hit his glove. Pendrell stood unmoving in the batting box looking utterly baffled. “Strike,” the umpire said coolly. On the second pitch Pendrell tried to swing but missed by a mile. He struck out with his bat never getting closer than six inches to the ball.  
“I refuse to believe that that alien is a better pitcher than I am,” Mulder said, moping slightly. “There’s no way he can keep that kind of speed up for more than two innings.”  
Frohike took the plate with a swagger. “I’ve cracked pieces of code harder than you boys,” he said. “I’ve cracked EGGS harder than you”.   
“His frittatas are scarier than you are!” Langley yelled from the dugout.   
The Bounty Hunter threw the ball. Frohike threw his entire body into a bunt, connected, and barreled towards first base. He slid to safety. Virgil Incanto looked at him scornfully and spit into the dirt near the plate. His saliva sizzled. Frohike looked unimpressed.  
Jeffrey Spender was next. His stance was heavily defensive, shoulders hunched. The kind of posture good for a heavy rainstorm, not a baseball game. The first pitch went right over the plate, smacking heavily into Modell’s glove (for once in his life he maintained a stoic silence). “Ball,” said the Umpire.   
“I’m not complaining but…is he blind?” Mulder said quietly.  
“Ball two,” on the second, equally accurate pitch. The Bounty Hunter’s expression didn’t change, but his grip was leaving indents on the ball.  
“Ball three,” said the umpire as Spender checked his swing.  
“Ball four,” and Spender walked to first, Frohike strolling to second.  
“What just happened?” Pendrell asked, “and why couldn’t it have happened to me?”

Skinner was up, tapping his bat against the plate.  
“If anyone can tie us up it will be the Skinman,” Mulder said gleefully. We went to a batting cage once (as part of a case) and he’s the Babe Ruth of the FBI.   
Modell signaled something to the Bounty Hunter, then began to talk. “Hey batta batta”  
Skinner ignored him.  
“Heeeey batta batta.”  
The Bounty Hunter wound up, and right before the pitch left his hand,  
“Heey batta batta SWING!”  
Skinner swung, missing the ball by a mile.  
“Bet you can’t do that again,” said Modell. Skinner won the bet, swinging and missing.  
“How about a hat trick?”  
And Skinner struck out. 

Krycek took the plate.   
“Who invited him?” Mulder asked Skinner as he slunk back into the dugout.   
“Who knows? You know Krycek – he shows up wherever he’s least wanted if he thinks he can get something out of it.”  
“Krycek, how are you going to bat with only one arm,” Mulder yelled. “Come to think of it, how did you field?”  
Krycek kept his eyes locked on the Bounty Hunter. “I’ve got more talent with one arm than you have in your whole body,” he said through clenched teeth.  
“Your batting helmet looks stupid,” Mulder replied.  
Krycek turned his eyes to the sky and exhaled deeply, missing the first pitch in the process.  
“Mulder, enough,” said Skinner.   
Krycek let the second pitch go by, watching it carefully. “Aren’t you going to try your little trick?” he asked Modell.  
“You have one arm. I don’t think you need any pushing to strike out.”  
As the third pitch approached, Krycek gripped the bat tightly with his front (good) arm and brought it forwards across his body. It connected with a satisfying crack and the ball flew towards third, bypassing Weinsider and hopping in the outfield grass. Krycek ran, skidding into first with a snarl that made Incanto step away from the base. Leonard Betts ran to get the ball, opting to get it back to the pitcher instead to one of the bases.   
Bases loaded.  
Byers struck out. 

End of the first inning!


	2. The Second Inning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the second inning! Mulder and Scully are up to bat!

Top of the Second: Monsters 3, Believers 0

As they went back to the dugout Modell confronted the Bounty Hunter. Whipping off his catcher’s mitt, Modell waved his badly swollen hand in the alien’s face. “I am a warrior who fears neither death nor pain, but I feel that a broken hand is neither a sign of honor for me, nor an asset to this team. I’m thinking you can maybe pitch a little softer. Think clouds. There’s one now, wispy like a down pillow-”  
The Bounty Hunter, unaffected by Modell’s persuasion, grabbed his hand. Modell struggled at first but quickly grew still. “What did you do?” Modell asked, wiggling his now unharmed fingers.  
“Now your head,” The Bounty Hunter said, reaching. Modell leaned backwards. “No, I’m okay with just this,” he said.  
Somone put a hand on his shoulder. “I can help,” said a quiet voice from behind him.   
Modell spun around to find Leonard Betts.  
“Get away from me,” Modell said.  
“You have something I need,” Betts said, stepping closer.  
“GET. AWAY.” Modell said, gritting his teeth and glaring at Betts.  
Betts retreated.   
“And pick me up a few energy bars,” Modell called after him. “Also maybe a shake.”

The Believers took the field with somewhat less enthusiasm than on the previous inning. Mulder kicked at the dirt around the pitcher’s mound. Scully watched him. “I don’t know how you’re playing baseball in high heels,” he said, digging the toes of his cleats into the dust.  
“I’m so used to running in them that it’s easier than sneakers,” she replied. “I have you and all the shadow government agents constantly trying to kill us to thank for all the practice.”  
Leonard Betts took the plate, still holding an energy bar. He readied himself.   
Mulder, determined to prove he could pitch just as well as an inhumanly strong alien, tossed the ball with all his might. Betts swung and missed. Once again, a swing and a miss. And a third time. Mulder smirked.   
Then Samantha stepped up to the plate. All the color drained from Mulder’s face. “Samantha…” he said.   
“Mulder, that is not your sister,” Scully said. “That’s the eighth batter.”  
“That’s Samantha,” Mulder said. “Why does batting order matter?”  
“You were just telling me about how the pitcher bats eighth.”  
“Well that’s not set in stone. Samantha!”  
Samantha didn’t respond.  
“It’s not her Mulder. Throw the ball,” said Scully.  
Mulder threw a wild pitch. Ball one.  
“Mulder, focus. That is NOT your sister.”  
Ball two.  
The third pitch somehow crossed the plate. Samantha swung with more strength than her waiflike frame should be able to generate, and the ball went straight over the back wall.  
“Samantha, it’s me!” Mulder yelled after her. “It’s your brother!”  
Samantha paid no heed, instead heading back into the dugout where she promptly resumed the form of the Bounty Hunter.

It took a little while for Modell to take his stance. His face was pale and there were red-rimmed circles under his eyes. Crumbs dotted his uniform.   
Even though Mulder’s first pitch was wild, he swung.   
“Aren’t you going to give a sick man an easy pitch? Come on, throw me a meatball. Go ahead. Give sick ol’ Bob Modell something to smile about.”  
Mulder, too shaken up to even think about resisting, sent one right over the plate. Modell smacked it, and began to jog to first. Jeffrey Spender threw the ball to Scully before he could get to first. Two outs.  
Flukeman attempted to eat or impregnate the ball instead of hitting it, leading to a third out.

Bottom of the second: Monsters 4 Believers 0

“Mulder, are you okay?” Scully asked, turning him so he was looking at her. He was crying and eating sunflower seeds, a somewhat disgusting combination.  
“Mulder, I promise you, that’s not your sister.”  
“I know, but…” he sniffled loudly.   
Scully changed tactics. “That was pretty ridiculous with the Flukeman, wasn’t it? Trying to run for first with a baseball in his mouth, and everyone was too squeamish to tag him out. Langley had to do it. I had no idea he could move that quickly.”  
Mulder smiled. “Speaking of Langley, he’s at bat.”

“Do I have to do everything around here?” Langley yelled to the dugout. Byers squirmed. “I thought I could hit it,” he said.  
“Well no worries, I’ll show you how it’s done. It’s just too bad there’s no one on base for me to hit home.”  
Frohike chimed in, “You can’t even hit a keyboard!”  
“Should we do anything?” Scully asked Mulder.  
“Nah.”

The Gunmen’s squabbling was cut short by the first pitch. Langley swung and missed. Byers and Frohike immediately switched to more traditional encouragement.   
“Keep your eye on the ball!” said Frohike.  
“What would Joey Ramone do?” said Byers.  
Langley hit the ball but it went foul.   
“I’m not sure if that’s what Joey Ramone would do, but I think you should try another approach,” said Byers.  
Langley struck out.

And then, at last, it was Mulder’s turn at bat. He playfully twirled the bat around as he prepared for the pitch. As he waited, the Bounty Hunter’s features morphed and changed, and once again Samantha was standing there. “Goddammit,” said Skinner, putting his face in his hands.   
“Mulder, you just saw him change, there is absolutely no way that’s your sister,” called Scully.  
“Samantha…” whispered Mulder. He swung shakily at the pitches, managing to foul two balls before completely missing the third.  
Scully looked at him sadly as he slumped back to the dugout. She couldn’t comfort him however, as it was her turn at bat.

The field seemed huge from the plate, the long dusty road rimmed in by green. The outfielders watched her with rapt attention. She would have sworn that they looked hungry. “You can do it Scully!” Mulder called. “You can do it Dana!” Pendrell yelled even louder from his spot in the on deck circle.   
The ball came faster than she could have imagined. She didn’t swing until after it hit the catcher’s glove.   
“Keep your eye on the ball!” yelled Mulder.  
Scully kept her eye on the ball, watching it intently as it hit the catcher’s mitt.  
She tried to swing on the third pitch, but only succeeded in spinning herself around.  
“That’s okay, good try!” said Mulder.

End of the Second Inning


End file.
